


Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you

by winterscaptsam



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s03e04 San Junipero, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Car Accidents, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Not Really Character Death, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Sam Wilson, Romantic Fluff, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Time Skips, True Love, Watch the episode to understand what I mean, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterscaptsam/pseuds/winterscaptsam
Summary: There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 31





	Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Troye Sivans', Strawberries & Cigarettes.
> 
> If you haven't seen the episode then its a strong recommandation you do watch it before reading this, most likely you'll get confused although I did my best to somewhat explain the storyline. And well, of course...spoilers! 
> 
> I didn't exactly stick to everything although most things are the same as the episode and so is the whole general plot. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

_ San Junipero; the city of dreams and immortality. To live, to find freedom in forever. Through lights, music, youth, where heaven is a place on earth, the city that never sleeps._

_ When the sun sets, San Junipero rises. _

_ To choose eternity is to live in San Junipero. _

**Week One, 1987**

San Junipero, a small town in the Pacific Coast that only a few hundred people actually set up a stable living in, exclusively known as a party goers delight if they stayed long enough.The streets were crowded, filled with drunk teenagers and couples necking at the back of their cars, Belinda Carlisle playing loud enough you could hear it streets away from Tuckers; which is also Bucky’s first day here, already giving off a hell of an impression.

As if he was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, Bucky walked slowly towards Tuckers, the towns nature for music echoing through the streets and laughter so natural that the silent smiles of home faded from his memory, so distant that 15 miles felt like nothing. 

Remembers hearing the pleading of a girl as her fellow walked steadily away from her, repeating the same words as the girl stayed persistent and as if his body ignored his minds instructions he found himself following the couple into the club, Belinda Carlisle louder than before and in an instant they disappeared within the crowd of dancers. 

Surrounded by spilling glasses of alcohol as strangers swept their bodies to the beat of the music, dark but lighting up from the blue and pink neon lights, creating its shade of purple that glowed over the entire club. Finding a booth in the corner, Bucky sat by himself, sipping on coke, mixed with a beverage he had yet to identify. 

His eyes landing on the same man from before, brown eyes warm as he scanned around the club, almost like he was looking for an exit. Quickly dropping his gaze back to his drink, Bucky, avoiding any type of socializing or meeting the strangers eyes from across the room. 

Too late. 

Blue lights reflecting off of his clear brown skin as he made his way towards Bucky, “follow my lead,” he whispers, breath warm and close enough to tickle against Bucky’s neck. 

“W-what?” he asks, eyes wide in alarm as he sets down his drink, feels the man rest his arms across his shoulders; he didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he should’ve. 

“Whatever I say, go along with it,” he repeats, gives Bucky a look before turning back to face the sea of dancers, following his gaze as a girl walks out the crowd, restless look on her face.

“Seriously, Lisa. You’re just pesterin’ now,” his tone bored, almost like the first time he heard it but the thick Harlem accent visible, Bucky hadn’t quite heard before and he’s already wanting to listen again, the strangers voice a raspy kindness his words didn’t quite capture.

“Sam,” she says his name almost breathless, “three hours till midnight,” 

“I know,” he rolls his head back, looks at Bucky as if thinking up a story on the spot, “look, my buddy’s girlfriend just broke up with him,” his voice whispering the last words, “in need of some bro talk, little privacy?” 

Bucky soon realises the whole ordeal, decides to stick himself in, maybe he’s intruding their business but it was the man, Sam, who’d pushed him into it, he takes a quick look in between Sam and Lisa, “fiancé, actually.” 

And it’s silent for a moment, Lisa’s face giving up before muttering an inaudible okay and walking away, Sam, resting his head back before looking back to Bucky, “_fiancé, _nice touch,” he smirks.

It’s a little foolish to say Bucky likes the way Sam pronounces the word, wants to hear him say it again, cheeks go red from the thought and smiles, quickly ducking his head as if Sam could read his mind.

“Sam,” he shouts his name over the music, leans in for a handshake, “Sam Wilson.” 

Bucky only nods, forgetting his ability to move his limbs and nervously replies back, like an unsure kid talking to a stranger, “James- Bucky. I go by Bucky,” 

He watches as Sam’s lips tense to a smile, “Bucky? Weird, I like it.” 

_ Thanks _, he whispers, probably to low because Sam just looks at him as if expecting him to say more, he takes the lead instead. “I don’t mean to be rude, just...not gonna lead her on if I ain’t interested, y’know?”

“Fair enough,” Bucky shrugs and honest to god he doesn’t know how Sam hasn’t gotten bored of him yet.

He takes a deep breath, as if letting himself get soaked in by the flashing lights of pink, purple, blue, shining brightly, showing off his features, lips plumped into its perfect shape, eyes narrow but a sweetness to look into, “God, I love this song!” he shouts out, turning back to Bucky and grabbing his arms and before he had a chance to react to the touch he finds himself being pulled to the dance floor, the hundred something people suddenly feeling like a thousand,

“I- I don’t know how to…” he leaves his words unspoken, hopes Sam gets the gist of his nervousness. 

“Just follow my lead!” jumping to the beat of the music, so effortlessly, “you were good at it the first time,” he winks with a smile and if Bucky wasn’t so focused on how fast his heart was beating he would’ve felt the shift of movement it made as Sam smiled at him, how his lips couldn’t help by letting out a whimper of a smile from the wink. 

But he can’t; the last time Bucky was surrounded by a load of people on roaring noises ended in a disaster, god knows what made him think moving to San Junipero, the party town, out of all cities to move to was the best idea. Before he could ponder the situation even more he blasts out of there, the nearest door to his right and he feels the warmth of a hand grip on to his wrist softly, without looking back, he finds himself rushing until he’s surrounded by the emptiness of fresh air and only echoing music to be heard. 

Bucky’s breathes fast and ragged, leaning back on a brick wall letting himself breath in the sense of freedom, “shit, I’m sorry- its just, crowds aren’t really my scene,” he says, not letting himself take his eyes off the ground as he feels the presence of Sam leaning next to him, taking in the smell of sweet vermouth martini from his breath. 

“No shit,” he tries tackling a smile out of Bucky, “it's alright, gets some getting used too,”

This wasn’t something Bucky could get used too.

“Yeah, maybe” he muttered more to himself than anyone else.

“Wanna go back?” Bucky looks up at him at that, Sam quickly raises his hands in defence, “no dancing, just for a drink. I promise,” 

“Don’t think I want to go back in there...not now, anyway.” he huffs out, leaning against the wall, could just about make out the rhythm of music from inside the club. 

“Tourist?” Sam asks, digging out for a cigarette at the bottom of his jeans, loosely placing it between the corner of his lips as he lights it, smoke dragging out. God knows why Bucky’s heart makes a movement at that, finding everything Sam does attractive. 

“Not really,”

“So, you live here?”

“First day,” he swallows back a gulp, clearly not expecting his first day in the city to end up behind club walls talking to a stranger, not that Sam felt like one. 

“So, if you don’t dance,” Sam straightens himself up, looking directly at Bucky, “what do you do for fun?”

“I don’t. I don’t really know the first idea of fun,”

“How ‘bout,” letting the cigarette drop from his fingers, edging up closer to next Bucky, letting his hands guide themselves onto Bucky’s thighs, holding on, not tight but enough for his presence to be visible, “I can show you an idea of something _ fun... _midnight is only two hours away, could be back at my place in...” snapping his fingers.

His heart stammering in his chest, Bucky reaches up to his senses, taking a step back away from Sam, stumbling over his feet and words, “I-uh,” willing his mouth to form his next words, “this is my-”

“It's alright,” Sam shakes his head softly, voice a reassuring tone. 

“No, it's not _ that,” _

A soft smile on Sam’s lips, “really, Bucky. It's okay, no worries,”

And it's comforting, the way his name sounds on Sam’s lips, a warmth around it, protected by him. 

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh,” Sam’s face drops, “you really weren’t kidding about the fiance thing,” 

“No,” how could he make this sound simple, as complicated as it is, “well, not really.”

“I’ve never...done anything like this before,” as much as the moments ruined, he doesn’t want to lose it. 

“I could make it easy for you,” Sam whispers, voice all sincere, made from honey no wonder he sounded so sweet. 

“I want to, I do...but I just- can’t,” 

The sincerity is back in Sam’s voice, like it never left before, “I get it, its okay.”

An instinct to step towards him, Bucky stops himself, gives his hand out to shake, Sam takes a second to look at his extended hand before taking it, trapping it in his own, shaking them together, soft and soothing, Bucky could feel his body go warm from the contact. 

“It was good. Meeting you and all,”

Sam’s silent for a moment, as if searching for something in the pale blue of his eyes, “likewise,” he smiles before letting go and walking back into the club, disappearing within the crowd. 

**Week Two**

This Saturday night, just a couple minutes past nine, Simple Minds’, don’t you forget about me, is blasting through the speakers that could be heard from a mile away and Sam can already feel the excitement rushing through his bones, his heart solely pumping from the adrenaline of Tucker's Saturday nights. 

Getting out of his red Ford Sierra, stopping in his tracks as he sees the familiar face waiting for him outside of Tuckers, helpless smile on her face, Lisa. The girl never stops trying, does she?

“Really? This is borderline stalking, y’know?” 

“C’mon Sammy! We had fun last week,” pestering behind him like a lost kid.

“Last week was last week,”

“But it was still fun!” grabbing ahold of his arms, turning herself puppy eyed.

“Look, Lisa. It was just sex.”

“It was more than that, we had a connection,”

Sam resisting the urge to say, _ you had a connection, _because he is not an asshole and he knows his manners. “There are a million guys out there waiting for you to find them, sweet and polished; much better than I am.”

“They’re dead people,”

“A little lively for dead people,” he waves off, maybe he feels a little guilty, turns back to her, “enjoy the town, Lisa! I know it's in you to have a good time,” and with that he’s off. Disappearing into the liveliness of the club that felt like home. 

Sitting by the bar, sipping on his Jack and coke until something worth dancing to comes on tune, eyeing the passing couples as they make their way to the dance floor. Remembers when that used to be him, the same partner to fill your void instead of a new stranger each nice, instead of empty fucks that left behind nothing or chasing a good one night stand expecting it to be love, a bit like Lisa. Maybe he misses the feeling of a hand to hold and not worry about when they’d let go, when names weren’t mixed up in your head as it was only theirs that was imprinted to your lips, maybe he wants the feeling back. But it isn’t like he’s staying here forever, only until his time is up. 

“Hey,” a low voice catches him off guard, a dark haired man that looked about 5 '10 finding a seat next to Sam.

“Hey,” he nods back, already losing interest fast and for some reason his mind flickers back to the blue eyes of last Saturday. How timid Bucky was at first, felt him loosen up after each word, can’t help but wonder about his whereabouts, if he’d be at Tuckers this Saturday. 

“You waitin’ on somebody?” he asks, _ polite now but freaky later, _Sam can already tell the type of fuck this guy has in him. 

“No,” he replies back, because he’s not waiting for Bucky, he’s just thinking about him. 

“I’m Brock. Brock Rumlow,”

“Sam Wilson,” he tries mustering up a smile. If this guy was going to play polite, then fine, he’d play polite too that doesn’t gaurntee a fraeky fuck later though. Definitely doesn’t. 

And while Brock is going on about some company he was hired in, how much he hates his job but loves the paycheck too much to leave, Sam eyes glance around the bar stools, catching the similar blue eyes and shy look from a memory. Bucky, sat there, denim jacket taking over most of his stature, blue eyes glimmering in the pink light, purple lights reflecting off his pale blue jeans. 

“I mean, almost a hundred an hour. Gotta count for something, right?” 

Here’s a tip, don’t talk about how much you hate your job if you’re planning to end up in bed with them hours later.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Sam shouts over the music, loud enough for Bucky to hear from the couple seats away he was.

Rumlow nods, moving on to another guy as soon as Sam leaves. Hoping Bucky took the signal he walks past the crowd of drunken strangers, making it into the empty bathroom in one piece. Stands watching his reflection, half waiting to find something in himself, half waiting for Bucky. 

Doesn’t need to wait long as the door opens, Bucky, a shaky smile on his lips as he opens his mouth to say something, closes it before something he regrets comes out, takes his chances anyway, he’s got a flood of bodies to hide himself in if it all goes wrong. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Bucky breathes out.

“Do what?” Sam’s got to make sure, make sure he’s not mixing up his signals like the last time. 

“Make it easy for me,” shy blue eyes looking down at the ground, letting his feet muster up the courage to take a step closer, “you said you’d make it easy for me,”

It's easy to say that Sam never wants Bucky feeling as timid as he did now ever again, wants him to feel safe, smooth, alive when around him. That was what San Junipero is about afterall, feeling alive. Letting his hand warm up to caress Bucky’s cheek, his whisper soft and gentle, hopes it’ll make Bucky feel somewhat at ease, “wanna go back to my place?”

The drive to Sam’s place is short, filled with nothing but the wind brushing past them and soft glances every now and then, watches as the moonlight reflects in Sam’s eyes, can feel his heart flutter slightly, being here. In this moment, with the car driving not too fast and the gentle wind comforting them, he felt safe; being next to Sam did that to him. 

“How long have you been here...in San Junipero?” Bucky asks, letting his voice be heard for the first time after leaving Tuckers. 

“Not long, just off of a year,” taking his eyes off the road for a second to smile at Bucky, watches as the wind brushes past his hair, how he doesn’t look trapped by the air, unlike everyone else in this town. 

“How long do you plan on staying?” And maybe Bucky’s asking for himself, doesn’t want the night to end before it's even started. 

“Till I can’t,” and they’ve reached Sam’s beach house. Isolated in the middle of sun warmed sands, moonlight reflecting on the crashing of waves. 

“Okay?” Sam asks, hoping off the car and reaching out for Bucky’s hand, a tenderness he hasn’t felt in a while. 

Bucky nods back, a gentle smile placed on his lips and for the first time in this town he doesn’t feel like his heart is hammering against his rib cage, screaming to be let out but instead a steady beating at the warmth of Sam’s hand holding onto him, holding him close, a sense of duty, safety, protecting him from the winds he blew with. 

Leading him into the house, softly dimmed lights, their lips crashing together before Bucky even had a chance to gaze at his surroundings, find out what Sam’s home consisted of, if it was the same outgoing nature as Sam. Just as Bucky’s senses catch up to him, Sam lets go, takes a step back, licking his lips back, lets Bucky relax a bit, relax into the hold he has him in. 

Reaching his hands out to take Bucky’s jacket off of him, letting no distance between them at all, their breathes warm on eithers neck, their skin aching to touch once more as Bucky leans in, taps Sam’s lips in his own, taste the alcohol mixed coke on his lips, its sweet bitterness refreshing on Bucky’s lips, lets his hands guide themselves to Sam’s shirt, ripping it off with a steady shake. 

It's not long before they’re under the sheets, naked bodies colliding before they could long for the love even more. Sam lets his lips fall from Bucky’s and down to his neck, from his chest to torso, leaving soft marks of love everywhere his lips had travelled too. Bucky’s breath hitches as Sam makes love to him, the only sound being the crashing waves as the curtains blew in from the windows, their breaths with the rhythm of the wind. _ This _is what being alive felt like. 

At half past eleven, their naked bodies are held close together under the silk sheets, allowing the breeze to take over the sultry air, once panting heavy breaths turned calm and in sync. 

“Thank you,” Bucky breathes out, _ for making me feel human, for liking me back. _

Sam turns himself to face Bucky, adjusts himself on the pillow so their eyes are directly connected, lets his hand travel to the bare of Bucky’s back, softly tracing the freckled dots, knows they connect to make the Pisces star. 

“I’ve never...never done anything like this before,” Bucky confess, feels like he can, feels like he can say anything to Sam and he’d offer a warm hand back, never ask for anything back. Perhaps he felt it as much as Bucky did.

“And...did you enjoy it?” Sam’s voice almost shaky, Bucky can’t help but smile at how worried his eyes had gotten.

“Yes, _ God, yes. _ So much,” lets his words drain Sam’s ears, wants him to know how much he enjoyed it, because of _ him._

Sam lets the worry fade away, smiles up at Bucky, reaches in for a soft kiss, for a moment he thinks he feels the emotion that had left him so long ago, just for a moment.

“I don’t want this moment to end,” Bucky whispers, says his thoughts aloud for the first time. 

But the clock strikes midnight. 

**Week Three**

This Saturday around, Bucky feels confident, more than ever before. Walks the streets like he’s apart of it, more than just a visitor. And it feels like he has a purpose, that there’s a reason he’s here, out in the city of forever. Has a plan, he’d walk into Tuckers, find Sam, drag him to the dance floor and let their bodies sway with the beat of a song, crash their lips together as if standing on the edge of tomorrow, will let himself drown with the music and the hold of Sam. 

Its slightly more crowded this time around, feels his heart beat a little fast but steadies himself as he remembers it won’t be too long till he spots the safe aura of Sam in the club. But he doesn’t. He walks past endless bundles of people, crashes into drunk couples and teenagers and still no sign of Sam. Its hours till midnight yet he still feels a rush of worry through his veins. 

Catching a glimpse of Lisa from the corner of his eyes, leaning back on the club walls as she watches the crowds, sipping on her beer, catching Bucky’s eyes on her she straightens her posture. 

“Sam’s friend,” she says, takes another gulp of her beer as Bucky can already see the affects in her swaying. 

“Have you seen him?”

She clicks her tongue, shakes her head, takes another gulp of her beer before assessing Bucky up and down, “you too, huh?” 

Bucky feels his heart sink down. Was he just another Lisa? Maybe he had gotten his signals mixed up, maybe he was nothing more than a one night stand to fill the void and it was all a dream, a trick. 

“Do you know where to find him?” he swallows back the pain in his voice. 

“How the fuck would I know that?” 

“You’re his friend,” Bucky tries, knows it isn’t true but it was at some point in Sam’s timeline.

“Was.”

_ Nevermind, _an inaudible mutter leaves Bucky as he turns away, Lisa’s hands reaching out for his arms before he could leave, “wait.”

He turns back, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

She sighs a little, she’s been here before, the feeling of want. “Try the 80s, sometimes the 90s. 2002 one time,” 

“Thanks,” he nods before turning back, hears her mutter a ‘_ he’s worth it,’ _ before parting ways.  
  


**Week Six, 1996**

Two Saturday nights pass and he’s still living by San Junipero, the constant search for Sam that only leaves breadcrumbs, swallows himself in pools of dances and drowns himself from drink to drink. This is what fun feels like, like being alive on the dance floor, not worrying about anything other than if your taste buds would like to taste something, _ someone _ new. 

Though his heart is melting away at the edges; this isn’t what being alive feels like.

**Week Seven, 2002**

His will to give up isn’t as strong as it seems, Bucky carries on searching. Looking for Sam in every corner of each year, era. And it's just his luck that 2002 is exactly where Sam is hiding- _ hiding, _is that what he’s been doing the whole time? Hiding away while Bucky’s heart longed for a touch, a breath of fresh air he isn’t able to get in San Junipero unless Sam is there with him. 

Tuckers, still standing bright and tall, a flash of rainbow coloured neon lights this time around, his surroundings different; the music a whole new genre he isn’t used too, the style of clothes even. Trying to ignore the space around him as he walks around, eyes landing on the DDR at the brightly lit corner of the room, _ Sam, _in loose fitted jeans and a purple v-neck, his heart in his lungs as a smile creeps on his face, watches as Sam’s body sways perfectly to the machine, jumping on every beat, not missing a step. 

“Yes!” he screams out in joy, punching his fists in the air. And there it was, the gentle voice Bucky was looking all over for. 

“Sam?” 

He turns in an instant at the sound of his name, smile half disappearing from his face, his mouth wavering, eyes stunned at the presence in front of him. He takes a second to look at Bucky before jumping off the machine and walking pass the-not as full as before- crowds of Tuckers. 

“Hey! Wait- wait up,” Bucky chases after him. No, he isn’t going to disappear that fast, not again. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam snaps back, his voice isn’t harsh, they could never be, it's too used to gentleness.

“I was looking for you,” Bucky’s honesty falling off of him so easily, he couldn’t hide how much he had missed Sam, “why are you even here?”

Sam shrugs, looking around him, searching for an excuse, “I like a change of music,”

“This isn’t even your era,” a mutter, a hurt so visible to Sam’s ears, “you...you hid from me,”

“I don’t owe you anything. Plus, I was not hiding from you,”

The music lowering as he can feel his heart aching to rip again. Just as he thought he’d overcome the feeling of helplessness it comes back again, stronger. 

“It's not about who owes who,” his words come out harsh, he means them to be, “it's about manners. Do you not have them?” blue eyes watery, searching for an answer he knows Sam wouldn’t give. 

“This,” Sam motions between them, “this isn’t fun, okay? It's not supposed to be anything more than fun,”

“Do you not feel bad?” 

Silence.

“You should.” and with that Bucky’s off, not looking back at the man he chased over the course of weeks, years even. 

But he does. He does feel bad, knows he’ll regret every moment if he lets Bucky walk away like this. Knows he won’t be as lucky to get another chance, San Junipero is made of forevers, not miracles. Not yet, at least. 

Chasing after Bucky, following him out of the club, losing sight of him as quick as he saw the hope in his eyes disappear. Runs out the club, stares up at the sky to see Bucky, sitting by a buildings edge, almost far enough to be blurred. Climbing up the ladder, watches as silent tears escape Bucky, walks hesitantly over to him.

“Hey,” he whispers, sweet and ressauring, like it always has been, “please tell me there’s no voices tellin’ you to jump,”

Bucky turns around at that, wiping the wetness off of his cheeks, he sighs, lets a breath escape him as if he was stood back by Sam’s beach house, letting the waves overtake him.

“No, no voices,” he says silently, turning back to look down at the empty streets below him. 

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“Now you feel bad?” Bucky scoffs out, almost feels like screaming till his heart has the fucking courage to burst- it does’t, steady beats around Sam, like always.

“I just- this wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought this was just gonna be a one time thing but it didn’t feel like it. Felt like _ more. _I wasn’t meant to catch feelings and then you came...fuckin’ inconvenient, to be honest,” he gives a silent laugh, lets it fade into a smile, “I wasn’t expecting to want something as bad as I want you,”

That’s all it takes for the tears to come rushing down again, no words of comfort this time round, just a hold, hold for dear life as Sam hushes his sobs with a kiss, gentle and warming.   
  


**Week Eight, 1987**

Sitting by Sam’s porch, letting the moonlight horizon reflect off of them as the feel of sand beneath their feet gave them a sense of being, two cups of hot chocolate in hand as Sam sits behind Bucky, places his own next to him as Bucky takes a sip of his, letting the hot sweetness melt onto his lips. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Bucky dares to ask, wonders if the reason Sam was so afraid to feel anything, not allow himself too was due to another face, another voice that once soothed his heart, maybe broke it.

“Once,” Sam keeps his eyes on the horizon ahead, “his name was Riley,”

“What happened?” he doesn’t even let a beat pass, wants to know every detail of reason as to why Sam breaths the name like a prayer, as if he was unsure if the God above him would forgive him for all his sins, his eyes watery, what power did this name have ahold of him.

“Nothing happened,” Sam shakes it off, tries for a smile that doesn’t quite do the trick it was supposed to but shuts Bucky up anyway, moves him onto the next topic.

“I never would’ve met someone like you, if I hadn’t come to stay here,”

“Sure you would’ve,” Sam nudges him, smile starting to glow a little more than before.

“You...you’ve made me want to _ stay,” _

There comes the beat Bucky missed before.

“As in stay, stay? Like, pass over?” 

He nods, has a question on his lips he could just about taste, wants to ask Sam to pass over with him, to really find forever in San Junipero, together. But perhaps it's too soon. Maybe they should stick to midnight strikes and promiseful Saturdays; least they don’t hold a weight on him. 

**Week Nine**

This time around, no music, no parties or drunken strangers crashing onto each other. Just them, enjoying the sun till dawn, the soft breeze of waves as they crash onto shore. Blissful, Bucky can imagine a forever like this, _ wants _a forever like this. 

Sam is laid back on his bed, pen and notepad in hand as he wrote a couple words, sketched a sun at the corner of the page, trying to muster up a couple words that could describe the euphoric feeling he can feel drive up his veins, trace around his heart. 

“What you thinkin’ about?” Bucky asks, flipping through his copy of Murder on the Orient Express, he’d always been a fan of murder mysteries, Sam calling him a maniac for it, Bucky normally making a Scream face at him, all blown eyes and open mouth that would fail as soon as Sam’d trap him in a kiss, tackling the plastic knife out of his hands as they’d tumble onto the bed, a heap of laugher from abesloutly nothing. 

“Thinkin’ that I can’t call myself a writer if I don’t know how to start this damn sentence,” and the annoyance is all to clear in his voice, as much as Bucky loved reading he didn’t know the first clue about writing, only getting good grades from copying off his best mates, Steve’s work. 

“Well, what are you trying to write about?” he asks, climbing his way onto the bed, falling right next to Sam, knows his pupils are dilated to no return, watching as Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, brown eyes twinkling in confusion as stared at the blank page in front of him. 

“About..._ this,”_

Sam fucking Wilson is a flustered mess. Well, that’s definitely a new look on him as Bucky can feel his cheeks go red from smiling too hard, “you’re writing about us?” Bucky asks, voice all dolled up and happy, creeping his face above Sam’s just so he can see how flustered he truly is.

“No, no I’m not,” but Sam’s hiding back a smile, pulling the covers of him, shying away from Bucky. 

“Yes you are! You’re writing about your precious knight in shining armor, how I whisked you away and you didn’t even know it,” and Bucky’s words are precious as he tries tackling Sam out from under the covers, laughing as he does it. “You’re sweet on me Sam Wilson,”

“I really ain’t. Not sweet on anyone” he tries a stern voice but its clear to see there’s a blushing smile behind it. 

“Sweet,” flicking the pen and notepad across the room, Bucky’s voice a raspy alluring tone, “sweet” he repeats as he uncovers Sam’s face from underneath the pale sheets, “sweet for me,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. 

Their hands roaming on each others bodies, their lips searching for more as they deepen the kiss, as if Bucky’s drowning and Sam’s his air, his only source of living, lets his tongue slide in, lets it travel all corners of Sam’s mouth, wants to leave no detail to his imagination, he wants Sam, he wants it all. 

“And what if I am?” Sam breaths out from the kiss only to connect them back in an instant, holding Bucky by the waist and flipping him over, letting the sheets tangle them onto each others bodies, knows that's how they’re meant to be. 

“Show me,” Bucky dares. 

That’s all it takes, for clothes to be thrown across the room, only the sound of their panting breaths mixing with the air as Sam kissed him neck down to his v-line, leaving marks of his love, gentle, soft, caring, Bucky can’t think of enough words to just describe how good- Sam’s mouth wrapping around his dick, slick and slow tease. 

Bucky remembering the trick of breaths to keep your heart steady just how Sam had taught him for when he felt his heart stammering against his chest like this.

_“Hold it in for five, hey, it’s okay, follow my lead, okay? One,”_

Sam’s tongue tracing around the edges of the head of his length.

_ “Don’t suffocate yourself, just hold it in a while. Two,” _

Slick and slow at the base, brown eyes blown up as Sam looks up at him with love in his eyes.

_ “You’re doing perfect, baby. Three,” he remembers his voice gentle and soothing._

Lightly tugging down at his balls, rolling them into his mouth at one go, Bucky can feel a rush of electricity run through his body.

_ “Four,”_

Slow motion turns to fast and wet sucking, taking everything hole into his mouth, Sam wants to feel every part of Bucky as he sucks deep throat.

“Sam! Fuck, Sammy! I’m gonna-“ 

The profanities Bucky screamed was magic to Sam’s ears, wants to hear every word under the sun as he comes undone. Thrusting his hips in for more, fucking hell, Bucky was on the clouds.

_ “Five. Now let yourself breathe”_

That's all it takes for Bucky to become undone, coming all over, slick white mess staining, Sam only sees it as art, could paint Van Gogh spirals and Da Vinci portraits all Bucky had to do was stay. 

Bucky finds himself flickering his eyes awake, still naked under the covers as the breeze hit his skin, a warm cup of coffee by the bedside table and Sam, sat by a rocking chair at the far end of the room; writing. 

Definitely safe to say Bucky is his muse if he won’t admit anymore than that. 

“It’s almost midnight,” Sam whispers, gentle like the oceans waves tonight. 

Bucky, who only softly shakes his head, “let’s just have this. This moment without any time restriction,”

Sam smiles, the type that makes Bucky’s heart go all warm and gooey inside, makes him think Sam was a gift from the angels. 

“Did you finish writing about us?” 

Sam rips the paper from his book, flies with the wind as it flows across the room, just as he’s about to open his mouth to reply- 

The clock strikes midnight.

_ Ask and my heart will unfold itself inside my chest till it's beating for you too, _

_ And when you feel like the air is trapped inside, _

_ The absence of my breath will mask its way to serve you _

_ Until the only grasps of air I can take is your name, _

_ Until my voice is wiped with the ache of your presence, _

_ Like the sin you kissed off of my lips, _

_ With the seconds softness I can still feel, _

_ Because the sun I stole for you has burnt your name into my skin. _

_ Maybe I’ll steal the moon for you next. _

**Week Ten**

There’s something therapeutic about the sound of waves crashing onto his skin, sand melting away by the touch of water, a type of freedom Bucky will never be able to experience other than here, in San Junipero, close enough to Sam’s beach house to run back to safety incase the crashing of waves get too rough, too dangerous, too memorable of his own crash. 

Crash and burn. 

“How are you?” Bucky asks one night, sat by the beach house porch, “apart from all of this, in reality...how are you?”

Sam stays silent for a moment, Bucky thinks he’s admiring the rising moon, taking it all in till he has to wait till next Saturday, takes him a second to realise brown eyes turn watery, lips trembling in pain, “Nobody ever asks me how I am,” his voice far beyond broken.

“I’m asking.” 

“I’m sad,” and simple words has never made Bucky’s heart break more than just the mere sound of it. How can he be sad? Sam, the man with the energetic smile you could see from a mile away, the man who laughs at any given moment, the rush of adrenaline in his blood, Sam is the happiest person he’s seen. 

Bucky stays quiet, lets him finish off. Knows his heart won’t take it but Sam’s broken heart alone could break the moon fall to pieces, edges floating lost at sea, broken and alone like everyone else that's touched its waves. 

“It spread everywhere, doctors said I had three months, six months ago. So, y’know, what do they know?” he shrugs, wipes the lone tear before any managed to escape.

“But you’ll stay here after?” Hope tracking in his voice, 

“No. When I’m gone, I’m gone.”

And it feels like the ground is swallowing him whole, why wouldn’t Sam want to say? Here with him at least.

“That’s cra- why?” 

“Riley.” A name, singular yet had all the power to create the hurt in Sam’s voice, “he died, didn’t pass over, didn’t even go for the trail run,” he’s biting down on his lips, stopping them from shaking, from continuing a story that hurts too much. 

“Why don’t _ you _ stay? You have the chance- I mean, why wouldn’t anyone want to stay here? It’s like heaven. It-it is” 

Sam shrugs, let’s the question slide, turns to face Bucky hoping his pain doesn’t translate in his eyes. “How about you? Who are you outside of this?”

“You don’t want to- I’m not-” he thinks of his current condition, there’s no way Sam would stay after seeing him, how he really is. Left out in the cold for too long to even be broken, just numb. 

“Where are you anyway? I’m in Harlem.”

“Brooklyn,” he stays silent for a moment, “in the institute. I don’t want you to see me, you wouldn’t like-“

“I’m dying, Buck. Nothing can scare me away. Let me come say hi,” 

He’s silent for a moment.

“Show me,” Sam breathes out, cupping Bucky’s cheeks, looking him sincerely in the eyes, “I want to see you, outside of all of this,”

_ Okay. _

**2019**

Samuel Thomas Wilson, aged sixty-three and diagnosed with cancer, refusing to take chemo or any type of help, wants to live the rest of his life how it was planned out to be. No turning for help to get a prolonged life or finding forever in a virtual reality. When he’s gone, that’s it. 

He’s frail; not yet broken though. Thanks for his parents, it takes a damn long time till you can break a Wilson. Old, hands shaking as he keeps ahold of his walking stick, brown eyes lively, you could still see the young man in him. 

Sam stops in front of a mirror when he reaches the Brooklyn institutie, it’s been a while since he’s done this; cares for how he looked when visiting another person, then again he’s normally the one whose being visited. He straightens out his tie, tries for a weak smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes; never will. 

Not here anyway. 

“Eager to impress, aren’t you Mr Wilson?” His nurse, Shuri says behind her, smiling at his reflection as he meets her eyes, she’s young, has a cheeky banter to her that Sam’s grateful for, reminds him of his own youth he gets to go back to once a week. 

He chuckles, turns himself to follow her through the door, “not an everyday occasion he gets to see me like this,” 

She smiles, “ready?” 

He nods, walking through the double doors and ready to see- _ meet _Bucky. For real, this time. 

Sam feels his heartbeat grow slower, weakening as he’s every step closer to seeing Bucky. Wonders what Bucky was so afraid of him seeing? That he was sick? Sam was sick, he couldn’t be afraid of that, could he? 

“He’s in through there,” Shuri says beside him, “would you like me to go inside with you?” Her voice quiet, caring. 

He shakes his head, unable to voice any words as he walks in. Dim yellow lights, much different to the ones he’s used to in Tucker’s, the sound of monitors filling the silence and that’s when he sees him. 

Bucky, laying there on a hospital bed, a breathing mask covering his face, white blanket up to his waist, his hair, shorter and all swept to the side, a gray color, darker shade than Sam’s hair. He leans in, walking towards Bucky, reaches out for his hand, cold not like the warmth he’s used too. 

“Hi,” he whispers, “so, this is where you’ve been hiding away. Should’ve known you were a Brooklyn boy,” the heart monitor beeps a little. 

“He won’t be able to react. But he can hear you,” a female voice says from behind Sam, he keeps his focus on Bucky; placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, resting his hand gently on his hair, letting his fingers play with the grey strands, this gets another sound from the monitor. 

Sam smiles a little, “missed you too,” he whispered before turning to see a young blonde women, blue eyes bright and youthful, reminding him of Bucky’s, yearns to see them again. 

“I’m Sharon,” she says, reaches her hand out to shake, it takes a second before Sam can firm his shaking hands and place them on hers, “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky doesn’t get much visitors. None at all actually,” 

Sam smiles, fails to think of an appropriate enough response, she leads them into a small room, he turns back to get one last look at Bucky, hears the heart monitor again, a little louder this time, “I’ll come back, I promise,” he whispers his response as he follows Sharon. 

They sit by a table, Sharon placing a warm cup of tea in front of them both, she begins to talk, doesn’t start off with small talk, gets straight to the point, he appreciates that about her already. 

“I’d have expected his parents to at least visit before he passes over,” her voice wavers a little, “nonetheless, it’s good you’re here”

The words hit him like a push to the heart, sure this is the moment a Wilson finally breaks, “p-passes over?” Sam's voice broken, little, his age showing through. 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

He shakes his head, Bucky had only told him he was visiting, nothing about staying, not forever at least. 

“He talked a lot about you, when I first started working here, every conversation he’d find a way to get you involved. It’s an honour, to finally put a face to the name,” 

Sam’s heart warms, only a way Bucky could make it.

“Did he ever tell you, how he ended up like this? Quadriplegic.” 

Again, Sam shakes his head, realizing there was a lot Bucky didn’t tell him about his reality, had he been so afraid Sam would leave him for it? 

“It happened the night he came out to his parents, he was only twenty one,” she steadies her hands around her now cold cup, none of them taking a drink since they’ve been here, “his parents didn’t exactly take it well, throwing curses at him as well as anything that was available at hand,” 

Sam can feel his heart burning, _ how could anyone so as much lay a hand on their own son for who he loves? _

“It was bad enough telling his parents but the shouting got louder, neighbours overheard and well, y’know...small towns _ talk, _gossip. He fled, took his car and drove off the side of the road,”

Sam blinks back a few tears, “at twenty one?”

She nods, “the state has got a lockdown on euthanasia cases, they don’t want anyone passing over which is why you need a parent to sign, family member at least.” 

The burning in his heart growing, sure he could burn this whole hospital down with his heart alone, the words hurt too much. “And his parents?”

“They refuse to sign, don’t want him to live a ‘sinful life’ as they call it, won’t even come visit.” And as old and weak as he is, Sam swears he’d have started a fight to hell if he saw them now, “but a spouse can override that,” she says, her voice a lighter tone, “which is why,” she raises her hand, waving her finger, engagement ring shining in the light.

_ Fiancé, _he remembers Bucky telling them.

“You’re-“ it makes sense now, what Bucky had such trouble trying to tell him.

“If you marry him...you won’t be able to go back,” Sam warns, she’s practically signing her life away so Bucky can live his. 

“I know,” she smiles, content with her decision. “It’s the least I could do,” 

In his sixty-three years of living Sam had never seen a kindness like this, taking her right away to marry a person she loves, to promise her life away just so Bucky could find forever in a San Junipero, so he was in heaven while his parents promised he’d go to hell. 

“Would it- would it be possible to hook us onto the system now?” Sam asks, hiding back a smile, an idea struck in his mind. “I just want a moment,”

“Of course,” she smiles as she gets up. 

**  
1987**

It’s sunny, sky a bright blue as the wind is softer, it’s much harsher at night. In a distance, he sees Bucky, standing in the middle of the beach, eyes closed as he lets himself shine underneath the sun, hair blowing in the wind, lets his feet warm underneath the sand. 

Feels like a lifetime since Sam has seen him be free like this, understand why he loves San Junipero so much now.

“I’ve never been here before, during the day...it’s beautiful,” Bucky smiles, slowly opening his eyes back up as he turns to face Sam. 

“You’re passing over?” Sam asks, unable to let any other words form.

Bucky’s smile fades away, taking a couple steps back, “I was going to tell you, I just wasn’t sure how to say it and-“

Sam kisses his mouth shut, smile tugging on his lips as he pulls away, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” getting down on one knee as he holds onto Bucky’s hands, “Sharon is sweet- and I understand now, why you were going to marry her but,” he meets Bucky’s eyes, sun shining them an ice shade of blue, “want to marry me instead?” 

Bucky slings his arms around Sam’s neck in an instant, wrapping his arms around him, pushing his lips towards Sam’s. An eager pair of soft lips against each other, kissing him, again and again, his circuit for breathing, for life was the feel of Sam’s lips against his own. 

A laugh echoes on Sam as he pulls away, “is that a yes?” Brown eyes growing small from the brightness of the sun shining on them both.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes,” Bucky’s voice breathless as he lets his head fall onto Sam’s shoulder and he’s sure he can hear an _ I love you _ muffled in the sound of happy sobs. 

**2019**

The ceremony isn’t all but short, Shuri and Sharon smiling brightly as Sam and Bucky exchanges vowels, promising to love and to hold, they’ve done this a thousand times by each other side already. 

“I now pronounce you as _ one _,” the priests smile wavers as he turns from Sam to Bucky, still in his hospital bed, tubes still connecting him to a life that’ll disappear the second he passes over. 

From all wedding ceremonies he’s ever been too, Sam’s sure the priest is still a little taken back from the circumstances.

The papers all signed, wedding and the one that allows Bucky’s passing over. All officially there, documented as Bucky had wished. 

Sam reaches for Bucky’s hands, stays in the room as the doctors disconnect him from all monitors, knows he’ll see him again, knows Bucky will now be in San Junipero forever, this is goodbye to everyone but him but it still hurts, he’s drying yet...living all at once. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Sam whispers, fingers tangled in between Bucky’s, the heart monitor beeps for one last time before it all falls silent. 

Swallowing back a gulp, Sam let’s the tear he’d been holding onto fall, and then another falls and another until the only sound in the room is his silent sobs. 

He’s gone now; uploaded into the system forever and Sam wonders why he’s still left standing. 

**San Junipero, 1987 **

Celebrating the wedding with black matching suits, a bow tie that they tied up for each other, getting into Sam’s ford sierra and driving off to the most fanciest restaurant they could think of. 

Taking turns at trying to pronounce the words on the menu, putting up their most posh accent they could try and god, Bucky feels so alive. 

He’s been here a thousand times before, his skin used to the feel of San Junipero air yet it feels so different, now that there isn’t a time limit for him, that he gets to sleep and wake up to the sun. It’s been a long time since he’s seen it; virtual reality and otherwise. 

Ending the night under the moonlight, sat on the hood of the car by Sam’s beach house, letting the comfortable silence sit, it feels euphoric. Sat by Sam, letting the gentle breeze hit their skin, Sam’s blazer still in the car, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows as Bucky’s shirt is three buttons open, shirt still tucked in as his own blazer is draped by his shoulders. 

“It looks so beautiful, so _ real,” _ Bucky’s voice shakes a little, still in shock of the whole ordeal. He’s here, forever, married. Fucking hell, he’s married!

“You’ve been here before,” Sam chuckes.

“I know, I know but it just feels different now, that I don’t have to worry about midnight. I’m _ free _,” he breathes out the words as if he can truly say them now, won’t have to worry about the freedom taken away from him in a seconds grasp.

Bucky leans in towards Sam, letting his hands land on Sam’s thighs, gripping tighter, licking his lips before going in for a kiss, aching for sweet taste of rose wine off of Sam’s lips, the kiss quickly deepening as Sam reaches his hand through the gap of Bucky’s opened shirt, letting it roam to his back and massage at his muscles, the starry constellations of freckles at the touch of his fingers. 

Bucky pulls apart, breathless, smirk tugging on his lips, unable to hide his happiness, “be with me,”

“I am,” Sam smiles back, “right here, I’m with you,” he gestures to the empty space around them.

“You know what I mean, Sammy. Pass over! Not now of course but when your time comes...stay, stay with me,” he’s still smiling, voice as hopeful as the look in his eyes.

“Buck-”

“Why don’t you want to pass over? Can’t you see how beautofil it is, I want you to stay” the desperation growing in his voice pleading, the hope slowly fading away as he Sam’s face. Expressionless, staring into the distance, avoiding his eyes.

“Can we just have this moment?” there’s a hint of annoyance, not quite anger, not just yet. 

“It's almost midnight, in a couple hours you’ll be gone. And I’ll have to wait a whole week till I see you again, it's not fair!”

“I already told you, Bucky. I’m just a visitor,” 

“But you could have forever!” Bucky’s voice higher than before, the pleading itching in his throat.

Sam takes Bucky’s hands away from his thigh, a simple movement enough to tear Bucky’s heart to pieces, watches as Sam gets off from the hood of the car, takes a step back away from Bucky. A clear distance between them. 

“We’re not discussing this, Buck.”

“What are you so afraid of?” He takes a step towards Sam, already feeling the coldness in the distance between them, if this is how it feels to be a meter apart, how will it feel when Sam’s time is up? When the months finally catch up to him and Bucky has nothing more than a memory, than the wind passing through him whispering a name carved into a gravestone, “this, _ this _ is real, it's all real,” he waves to the ring on his finger, cupping his hands to Sam’s cheeks. 

“You know that was only a gesture,”

A stab to Bucky’s heart.

“To help you pass over, it was only a kindness,”

The knife deepening, twists and hurts Bucky in all the wrong ways. 

Hurts him in a way only Sam could. 

“Leaving me, is that a kindness too?” Bucky’s voice harsh, fragile. 

“I already told you. When I’m gone, I’m not coming back,” he sounds sure of it, not even a hint of doubt, how could he leave this behind? Just like that.

“Why? Because of Riley?” the anger tracing up in his lungs, wishes there was a fire in his eyes but the blue only translates to helplessness, watches as Sam falls into something of anger, of pain, he’s never seen him look so mad before. 

“Don’t,” Sam’s voice warns, stern. 

But it’s too late, Bucky’s too mad, too angry to care about how his words would affect Sam, “He chose not to stay. That was his fault, he left you!”

“Don’t Bucky.” Lifting his finger up as warning, “don’t you even dare,”

“You should be mad at him! Not surrendering yourself to the grave from the guilt. If he really loved you then he would’ve stayed but he didn’t,”

_How could Bucky even say that?_

“It was selfish, you don’t see it but what he did was selfish actually! He could have stayed but he chose to leave you! That isn’t love,”

“Don’t! Don’t speak of things you know _ nothing _ about,” and it breaks Bucky’s heart to know he’s the reason behind brown teary eyes, they once used to be so warm, he can only see a coldness within them now. “We were together for 49 years. The years he gave me, the bond, the commitment, the love. Love you will just never know of, the fucking love of it!” his words no longer tasting of honey just venom that travels through Bucky’s veins, traces around his heart and just like that, in the seconds of silence he can feel their love disappear. 

“S-Sam, I didn’t know-”

“Did you ever think to ask? Did it ever occur to you to ask?” stretching out his words, the air around them turning poisonous, “we had a son, bless his heart. Died before the system was made and it broke us, _ God, _ it broke us. And when it was his choice, his time to pass over he said no, asked _ how can I? How can I when our baby boy didn’t even have the chance,” _ its pain, guilt, loss all built into one. “You really think that you are the only person in this world to have suffered? Go fuck yourself!”

“Sam, please I didn’t know-” he tries grabbing for his arm.

“Because you didn’t fucking think to!” he slams his hand onto the car, a thump leaving behind a silence and a jump backwards from Bucky.

“Sam,” he whispers, doesn’t even know what to say at this point.

“I’m sorry but if this,” he motions between them, taking a step back as if they aren’t two sides of the same coin, “if this graveyard is your idea of forever then I am out.”

Sam doesn’t stay, doesn’t stay to watch how Bucky’s world falls around him, the idea of forever in an echoing distance. Leaving Bucky stranded, alone. Sure his heart is somewhere lost in the ocean, that the sand beneath his feet only has snakes waiting to inject their venom in him. He stands, watching as Sam gets into the car and drives away from him.

Because the worst part about this all is not having to travel decades to find Sam again but to be stuck in the same era and the love isn’t reciprocated back. It's just left, left out in the open being burnt by the sun. 

That’s all it takes, for Sam to get in his car and dive off away from Bucky, wants the sound of engines to outdo the weight of Bucky’s words. He drives-_ 60mph- _ faster, wants to disappear with the wind- _ 70mph- _ doesn’t want to hear of a place called San Junipero- _ 90mph- _ street lights fused with tears, can barely see the road ahead of him- _ 100mph- _ wants to feel something other than this pain- _ 150mph- _

Car; totalled.

At a closed off road, Ford Sierra going at 150mph, he crashes into a barrier. Sam’s body smashing through the shards of glass, rolling onto the concrete ground, his body sprawled out, white shirt turning crimson red; it doesn’t even hurt. 

Almost like an angel, Bucky appears. Rushing to Sam’s side and through all the blurry vision and ache to his bones, Sam can feel the warmth of Bucky’s hands beside him, picking his head up to place on his lap, feels hot stained tears drop to his cheek mixed with weak voiced apologies.

Somewhere, in that headstrong heart Sam has, there is a loss, ache and hurt all fighting for space and Bucky has travelled through time itself just to find Sam. So, if you think, even for a second that he wouldn’t walk through the gates of hell just to stop Sam’s hurt then you are terribly mistaken.

For the flames of the car behind him, Bucky feels ice cold. Frozen to the brink of no return, it's a miracle his heart is still locked and beating. Watching as Sam lies in his arms beneath him, broken eyes he was the cause of, wants to mend all the broken pieces to make a heart. And in that moment he knows, knows he would crash a thousand cars just to make Sam whole again, till his heart could form itself back to gentle beats like ocean waves and whispery I love you’s.

“Stay here, please.” Bucky’s voice hoarse and broken, almost as much as Sam. Doesn’t know if he means staying in San Junipero, stay even though time is running out or to just hold on a little while longer. All he knows is that he wants Sam, wants him to stay in whatever way this damn world will let. 

Sam’s voice weak, slow, “I’m not coming back,”

The clock strikes twelve. 

**2019**

Sam wakes up to his own wheezing, his lungs giving out as they ache for breath. The months finally catching up on him, he feels weak, weaker than he thought he could ever be, his heart aching from loss, anger and heartbreak at the same time, he feels as though he’s ready to give out.

That perhaps it's his time to go. 

He’ll think about Bucky’s words, how he can still hear the desperation in his voice, how important forever was, _ is _ to him but it doesn’t stop the guilt, how could he have a chance of happiness when Riley and his son couldn’t even feel it, not even for a trail run and now here he is, another chance at love with the promising sense of forever, _ how, how could he take it? _

Yet he can’t help but want it. To bring life to their spoken forevers, to be able to stare into the blue calmness of Bucky’s eyes, to stay in the warmth of his arms, nothing has felt so good before. 

It's addicting, being with Bucky. A rush of adrelanine, want, _ need _ that no drink or empty fuck could ever give him, he feels whole, at home, feel his heart beat again just at the sound of Bucky’s name, how meoldic everything sounds from his tongue. 

And Bucky’s right, how could he just pass up this chance? This chance at love, at happiness in a fingers touch, luck with no take backs. He knows it, knows he’d give everything up in this world to be with Bucky, so that’s it, that’s his choice. 

His choice to stay with him, to stay with the man that gave him another chance at love. 

“How are you feeling?” Shuri asks, kneeling in front of him, a comforting hand on his knee.

“I think it's time,” he says, completely ignoring her question because he feels terrible, as though he’s losing another thing he loves all to San Junipero.

She nods, understands perfectly as she gets up to take his hand, lets out a smile that doesn’t shake the slightest. “Are you ready?”

He nods, barely visible but nonetheless she sees it, Sam turns himself to face the sun one last time, let it warm his skin and form a peaceful thought in his mind, “I’m ready.”

_ I’m coming back, _ Sam thinks for one last time. 

The warmness of the sun giving out, he feels his eyesight go hazy, the softness of Shuri’s hand clenching tight against his, “be happy,” she whispers and that’s all he hears till it all goes black. 

At age seventy three, Harlem Central hospital, 6:52pm, heart monitors stop. 

Sam Wilson has officially been uploaded to the system.

**San Junipero, 1987**

Like the world was playing some nostalgic trick on them, just like the first day they met, here they are, seats apart in Tuckers as neon lights and echoing music indulge them into forever.

It only takes four minutes to fall in love according to studies but Bucky reckons his heart started beating for Sam Wilson quicker than his penny hit the ground and the only sound he heard was the honey dipped Harlem accent running past him.

“You gon’ keep staring till I say something, blue?” Brown eyes looking Bucky up and down, smirk tugging on the wet gin & tonic of his lips.

“Till you _ do _ something,” Bucky replies back, eyes set on the golden brown iris and travelling down to Sam’s lips, unbothered in hiding his cravings. 

He found a heaven in the mahogany of Sam’s eyes, a heaven he wanted to be apart of. He smelt like fresh leaves and a summer's breeze, warm breaths with the wetness of liquor on his lips, he loved Sam more than anything else in this world. 

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven. 

And this was it, their chance at forever.

A chance at love. 

_ Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth? _

_ Ooh, heaven is a place on earth _

_ They say in heaven, love comes first _

_ We'll make heaven a place on earth _ _ Ooh, heaven is a place on earth _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for getting up to this point, this was a tough one but I hope you enjoyed it, it was funnily interesting to write it. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated! 
> 
> @justficsandstuff on Tumblr


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